


Excellent Elixers

by hazel_lannister



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_lannister/pseuds/hazel_lannister
Summary: Draco is a potions master looking to mind his own business and forget his past when the Savior himself walks in, stirring up feelings he's kept buried his entire life. Harry is just genuinely a nice guy and Draco is a snarky git, what more could you want? :)





	Excellent Elixers

The first time Draco saw Potter after Hogwarts, he had entered the shop, looking around and browsing the potions he had in stock. The morning had already begun incredibly poorly, Draco awakening panting in a pool of his own sweat (among other fluids) after a dream featuring a dark head of hair and green eyes.

The same dream that had teased his sleep since the beginning of second year and had slowly…  _ changed _ as his desires to simply be his friend matured into more. It had never stopped since his school days. But it had been five years since the war and graduation.

It was silly really, looking back on how angry he had been with Potter, even while hopelessly in love with him; angry that he could be on the right side, jealous that the people he loved weren’t on the wrong side of the war, spiteful that Potter always seemed like he had a  _ choice _ , and that he always chose right.

Back then he hadn’t had any control of his life, or his hormones for that matter, his teenage mind believing that taunting and making Potter his enemy would make it easier to see him everyday. At least if he made Potter his enemy the ball was in  _ his _ court, partially redeeming the rejection of their first year. 

But now Potter was back, looking even better than he had during his schooling days, and Draco's stomach clenched with the shock of old feelings and the sudden rush of desire he hadn’t felt in five years. Sure, he had picked up the occasional muggle at the gay clubs in the early hours of the morning if he was feeling especially lonely, but for the most part he had focused on work and had no need of an ongoing romance. But he couldn’t deny that the man was bloody fit. 

No longer was he underfed and lanky boy, but rather a lean yet incredibly muscular man whose shirt was tight enough to discern taught muscles beneath it, presumably from all the Auror work that Draco definitely  _ was not _ constantly reading about in the paper. 

He had those muggle jeans that Draco normally found incredibly distasteful but the way they hung low on his hips made Draco’s mouth water, wanting to run his fingers beneath the band and feel the hard abs underneath.

He needed to get a grip. Of himself, not of that delectable ass just begging to be touched and squeezed and fondled... Fucking Christ, Draco.

Draco had stood behind the counter, eyes downcast in the fear that if he looked up he would be unable to stop molesting Potter with his eyes.

Draco had his nose buried deep in his book of ingredients, trying to distract his mind with thoughts of Potter, bending him over a table with his strong, capable arms, or his cock down Draco's throat. Perhaps he wouldn’t see Draco, or better, realize it was him and leave immediately. Damn Millie for taking her lunch break  _ now. _

A throat cleared, and Draco was startled out of his stupor. It was strange though, the way the sound was not one that demanded attention immediately but rather a noise that signified that a person was there, a noise made so that he wouldn't be startled.

He looked up from his reading and was met in close proximity with a bespectacled face partly hidden beneath thick, silky locks. Gods, Draco still wanted to grab that hair as Harry fucked him senseless.

Draco put on his best cool salesperson expression of quiet attention, glancing up at Potter once more, though he could not keep his eyes from flickering quickly to full, cupid's bow lips and back up to emerald eyes once more.

"Hi," Potter said in a sure, deeper voice than the one Draco remembered as the corner of his mouth twitched up in an apologetic smile.

Draco nodded, certain that he was completely transparent in his reaction to Potter's presence. He gripped tightly to the counter as he fought to breathe. The air seemed to be suffocating him, the scent of Potter and the autumn rain outside, his hair slightly damp as it hung in his eyes. He seemed to radiate power and confidence while at the same time a sort of humility that of course fucking  _ Potter _ would have. 

Draco struggled to regain his bearings and maintain the cool calm that he normally succeeded in keeping as a mask. 

"May I help you?" Draco asked with the best faux salesman voice he could muster in such a state.

"Yeah," Potter began, one arm grasping the back of his neck as he bit his lip behind a hesitant smile. "My friend's pregnant and she's been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, I work down the road so I offered to see if you had anything that wouldn't be harmful to the baby."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, relieved that he now had a task to distract himself from fucking Potter, in more ways than one, and he was able to regain some of his focus.

"Yes, we do, if you'll follow me," Draco said turning and walking to another section of the shop without looking back to see if the other had followed. He knew he had. They stopped in front of a wall filled with shelves of vials, varying in color and size, and Draco pursed his lips around a smug smirk as he gazed at Potter's overwhelmed look.

"This is the section of milder potions, meant for people more sensitive to the effects of stronger ones. These are what we use for pregnancies," Draco said factually. He scanned the labels on a shelf a couple feet above his head, standing slightly on his toes as he reached up, stretching his body as he reached.

Potter cleared his throat behind him but Draco did not have time to analyze what the cause of  _ that  _ sound was. Finally running his fingertips along the vial he had been looking for, he grasped it, its pale blue contents sloshing within as he regained his balance, a firm hand on his upper arm, ensuring that he had fully regained his ability to stand. An action that, ironically, greatly inhibited his ability to do so. Or breathe. Or think. 

Salazar he needed to get laid. 

Draco walked back to the counter, beckoning the Gryffindor with his eyes. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began scrawling away furiously as he spoke. "Alright, Potter, I'm writing down the instructions for this because I somehow doubt you can retain facts longer than thirty seconds," Draco said disdainfully though he was unable to put as much haughtiness as he had been able to at Hogwarts, something about the new, confident, slightly smirking Potter as though he knew something you didn't threw Draco off. "She needs to take a couple drops a day, no more than three, about an hour before bed. It works best when taken with a meal but it's not necessary.

Draco pulled out paper and began to wrap the vial, carefully placing it in a small box with the words  _ Excellent Elixirs _ , delicately written in gold writing. The box was gently placed in a bag on the counter.

Draco smiled hesitantly, not understanding where this nervousness had come from and why it had decided to stay and torture him. Potter was straight, and with the Weaslette the last he knew, and even if he was bent, there was no way...

Harry returned the smile and thanked him, taking out some galleons from the pockets from those god awful, low-hanging, mouth-watering muggle jeans... Snap out of it!

"What do I owe you?" Harry asked questioningly, eyes searching deeper than the simple question needed, at least in Draco's opinion.

"Nothing, it's on the house," Draco blurted, unable for the life of him to figure out what had urged him to say that. Other than the fact that he owed Harry, no,  _ Potter _ , his life, this was the least he could do.

"Malfoy, that's not necessary-" Potter began to argue but Draco held up a hand.

"No, Potter, I insist," he said, unsure of how to think of a good reason for the discount.

"Alright, then perhaps I could take you to dinner," Potter suggested, hesitant green eyes meeting his own with a hopeful expression, his mouth quirking slightly in a beautiful, small smile that left Draco mesmerized. Godric, what had come over him? Spending more time with this new Potter was sure to lead to something he would regret, and he sought for a way to politely decline.

"I'm sorry, Potter, I'm terribly busy with the shop..." Draco said, gnawing on a lip guiltily, knowing his excuse sounded like shite even to his own ears.

The damn attractive bastard shrugged, though his shoulders sagged a bit dejectedly but he still gave a dazzling smile. "No worries, but next time I come, I'm paying," he said, eyes dancing and Draco was helpless to do anything but nod. "See you around, Malfoy," Potter said with a half wave and walked out the door with his purchase, the small bell ringing quietly behind him.

…

"See you around, Malfoy." The words rang around Draco's brain for days after the incident, as that was what he called it in his head. Other names brought up too many thoughts… memories… fantasies...

Apparently the smug bastard had meant that he would be seeing Draco and not the other way around as Draco had not seen Potter once since the damnable words had been uttered. The arse was too powerful for his own good. Surely there was some sort of magic he was wielding that caused Draco's eyes to flash immediately to the door with hope so obviously on his face every time he heard that stupid bell.

"Millie, remind me to get another bell, that one is giving me a migraine," Draco groaned with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the counter. They only had a few minutes until closing time and Draco doubted there would be any more customers.

Draco was about to look up and call for Millie once more to see if she had heard them, damn the girl that seemed nearly deaf at times, but was shocked out of his distemper by a startling pair of eyes hidden behind circular glasses.

Damn and damn again for good measure.

"Potter," he managed to choke out and he internally rolled his eyes at himself. What the fuck was wrong with him. Quickly attempting to regain his composure as he donned his usual mask for business, he asked, "Did the potion work out alright?"

Potter gave him a sheepish, half smile as if he  _ knew _ how attractive he was and nodded. "Yes, thank you, but that's not why I'm here." Draco’s heart sped as images of certain  _ other _ reasons for his visit arose in his mind’s eye. 

Draco moved a hand that bid him continue, frustrated by his body's reaction to this man. How had he grown even more gorgeous since school? The shoulders that had since grown broader, the confidence with which he walked and smiled... and Salazar those  _ eyes. _

Draco blinked rapidly, shaking himself of his thoughts as he hoped Potter hadn't said anything of importance, but no. Those green depths were looking at him as though searching so far into Draco's thoughts, the look so powerful Draco shuddered involuntarily. Draco used what Occlumency he knew just in case the burning look actually  _ could _ see into his thoughts, though he doubted the other was a Legilimens. Or that he would need the spell to know what Draco thought of. 

"Sorry?" Draco asked when he realized Potter had indeed said something that Draco had been too lost in his own thoughts to hear. His face burned but he hoped Potter hadn't noticed the flush spreading in his cheeks.

Harry smiled again, he really needed to  _ stop doing that _ , and repeated, "I was hoping to buy a dreamless sleep potion if you had it."

“For you, I assume? You’re not pregnant, are you?” Draco’s lips twitched as Harry gave him a grin that rivaled the sun in warmth. 

“Not since the last time I checked,” he said, patting hard abs and Draco fought not to look down. 

Draco nodded wordlessly, giving his polite business smile that felt entirely too forced, and led the other to the shelf where it was usually kept. His eyes scanned the labels quickly and he started slightly when he noticed that the potion was missing. Well, less 'missing' and more sold.

"I have to apologize, Mr. Potter," he began formally and the former Gryffindor quirked an eyebrow at the title. "...but we seem to be out of the potion. You could come back tomorrow afternoon or I could owl it to you as soon as it is ready. I would make it this evening but it requires two people and my assistant seems to have already taken her leave," Draco said, his stomach clenching slightly with embarrassment but also with the excitement at possibly seeing Potter the next day.

"Draco, please, we've known each other since we were eleven," Potter began, Draco's breath catching in his throat as he heard his first name escape the other man's lips for the first time. "And if you want, I could help you brew it tonight. That is, if you're not busy," Harry's bottom lip caught in his teeth as he awaited Draco's answer, an expression almost... hopeful on his face.

Draco still hadn't answered, debating silently how much of a fool he would make out of himself if he was alone with Potter for a long period of time.

Harry must have taken Draco's calculating expression to mean something different, for he added, "I know I'm shite at potions but I can still, you know, cut things..."

Draco gave a hesitant smile and nodded slightly, internally sighing at the idiot he was sure to make of himself. Potter stretched out an arm, indicating that he would follow, and Draco awkwardly shuffled in front and led him to the back room.

"You can take a seat there," he said, gesturing to a stool, "I have to put up the 'closed' sign." Harry nodded and Draco walked out, inhaling deeply as he attempted to regain control of his breathing. It was just a potion with an old classmate. A classmate that had happened to be nemesis for his entire childhood. And his crush.

When he walked back into the room, Potter was seated on the stool Draco had indicated with his hands in his lap, watching expectantly like the perfect pupil, clearly awaiting instruction, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. How the man managed to look both seductive and adorable at the same time was beyond Draco.

"Right," Draco began, pulling necessary ingredients from shelves and setting them beside a large cauldron. He placed the Sopophorous bean and Valerian sprig on a cutting board next to Harry. He retrieved a knife from his collection of tools and hesitated before handing it to Potter, the beginning of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Can I trust you with this, Potter?" he asked playfully, and to his relief and astonishment, the Gryffindor grinned back, briefly stopping Draco's heart in the process.

"I guess you'll have to trust me," he said with a smirk that could almost be considered Slytherin and took the knife.

Draco pretended to hesitate another moment before handing it over with a look of trepidation. Harry laughed and swiped it, playfully elbowing Draco so easily, as though they had been friends for years.

Potter interrupted his thoughts as he said, "And, Harry. I'd... like it if you would call me Harry." Draco looked at him with surprise. 

“Alright, Harry,” he said, testing the name out on his tongue, and if it wasn’t enough that the name sounded so  _ right _ , the heartstopping grin Harry gave sealed the deal. 

...

Draco was surprised how comfortably the time passed. There were insults, of course, but they no longer held the malice and venom they once had, but rather a playful banter of sorts, the kind that usually came from years of friendship. They debated which Quidditch team would secure the cup and more, and Draco was surprised to find they had more in common than he would have thought.

The two seemed to fall into place, so quickly that it frightened Draco but he would not have stopped it for the world. Harry was surprisingly witty and funny, something that only added fuel to the ‘charm fire’ as Draco called it in his head. Bloody fucking-- it shouldn’t be  _ allowed _ that someone be so damnably attractive and funny. And nice. And beautiful. And easy to make laugh. And, not to mention, the Savior of the fucking wizarding world.

Draco rolled his eyes internally and the conversation waned briefly, only the sounds of the boiling liquid and Harry's knife breaking the silence, when Harry interrupted the companionable quiet suddenly.

"So what made you want to open a potions shop?" Harry asked, and Draco paused in his stirring almost imperceptibly as his thoughts flashed back through the past years.

"I had trained to become a Mediwizard with a specialty in potions so I could help with dosage and diagnoses," Draco trailed off, eyes far away. When Potter spoke again, the voice came from much closer, electricity seeming to fizzle through the air as it always did when the Gryffindor was nearby. 

“But?” Harry asked, the voice just at his ear now, warm breath just brushing the sensitive flesh of his neck. 

“But, it turns out that people aren’t thrilled with the idea of being treated by a deatheater,” he said dryly, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, though he knew Harry would see through it. He was not as thick headed as one would think. It was in the past now, and Draco had a successful business… he got off a lot better than many others in his position. Probably more than he deserved. 

“Former deatheater,” Harry corrected instantly, and Draco felt more than heard the word right next to his ear, his searing nerves screaming for him to turn around and press the smug, adorable bastard against the wall and... ugh, Draco tried not to finish the thought. Only the knowledge that their temporary companionship would be ended forever held him back. 

Instead, he turned around slowly, making sure that a safe distance was kept between them but Draco doubted there was any distance in which he wouldn’t feel the magnetic pull to Harry. Eyes fixed on curious green orbs, he rolled up the sleeve covering his right forearm and exposed it to the world, removing the glamour charm that always kept it hidden.

There was the brand, forever etched into his skin. The mark that no amount of blood or tears would ever wash away. Harry’s gaze was unsurprisingly pulled down like a magnet to the mark, but the look of disgust and hatred that Draco would have expected to mar such a perfect face simply wasn’t there, though Draco knew it deserved to be. Instead, something that resembled pity and something Draco couldn’t place waited in those open eyes, and Draco’s heart fluttered under the intensity of the gaze. 

It was disarming the way one look seemed to see right through him, straight to Draco’s past and countless mistakes, and didn’t care that they were there. And Draco had wondered how the man could be any more of a saint. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts; he was quickly allowing himself to be drawn in, nearing the edge of the abyss. 

Gently, to the point where Draco wouldn’t have known Harry was touching him had he not been watching his every move, Potter stroked his fingers over the faded mark, sending a shiver through Draco’s whole body. Harry lifted the arm for what Draco thought was closer inspection but Harry simply continued to touch it oh so lightly, a caress that was barely there. 

“We all have scars,” Harry murmured, finally tearing his gaze from the ugly mark to meet Draco’s eyes once more. The Slytherin almost wished he hadn’t, for the intensity within that gaze was entirely too powerful and overwhelming for Draco to handle for more than a second. 

Draco almost stepped forward, closing the gap entirely, but the potion began to boil, interrupting the electricity that seemed to be coursing through his veins. He quickly looked back down at his arm that Harry was still holding and gently pulled back, creating more distance as he rolled his sleeve back down after replacing the glamour. 

“I need to add the Valerian sprig and the beans soon,” he said quietly, turning his back to Potter but not before he could see the hurt in his eyes. He wanted to go back to a moment before, to wrap his arms around Harry’s slim waist and allow the other to hold him until it was all made better. But he couldn’t… couldn’t allow himself to hurt Harry more, to take more than he deserved. 

The chopping behind him resumed, the harsh silence between them unbroken until Draco heard a hiss and a low oath under Harry’s breath, but when he glanced at the other wizard, he had dutifully resumed his task. 

Finally, Harry brought the cutting board to the cauldron where Draco took it with a muttered “thanks”. When the ingredients had been added and the potion had turned a deep shade of violet, Draco took a step back to look at Potter, only to find the other man with the tip of his index finger in his mouth and a look of concentration on his face. 

His brows were pulled slightly together and Draco’s gaze was drawn lower to where pink lips wrapped around the digit, causing unwelcome images of those lips around something  _ else.  _ Harry pulled the finger out to examine it, much to Draco’s disappointment, and inspected the finger where a line of red rushed out of a cut and began to drip. 

Harry almost placed the finger back in his mouth but Draco stopped him, grasping it gently in one hand while the other pulled out his wand. Harry looked up at him hesitantly and Draco almost feared he would pull the hand away, untrusting of a  _ former _ deatheater. He was surprised when emerald eyes showed nothing but trust and acceptance, giving a slight nod in consent. 

Draco nodded as well, easily healing the wound in a matter of seconds, and with a final squeeze of the no longer injured hand, Draco released him, eyes downcast when the moment had gone, though he didn’t know for what precise reason. 

“Thank you,” he heard Potter murmur and he nodded politely once more before walking back to the potion. When he was pleased that the potion had cooled enough, he cast a spell to put it into several 120 mL vials. 

“How many do you need?” Draco asked, shifting the mask of business back into place, his voice polite but distant. 

“Just one should be plenty, thank you. How much is that?” Potter asked, removing a pouch from a charmed muggle pocket. 

Draco shook his head fervently. “I’m not going to charge you for a potion you helped make, Pott-- Harry,” he corrected quickly. Honestly, the Gryffindor chivalry was insufferable. He carefully boxed and bagged the potion, holding up a hand to Harry’s protests.

“Draco, honestly, all I did was use the bloody knife. Literally,” he added with a huff of a laugh and Draco chuckled as well, Potter’s head whipping up with a look of genuine shock. It hadn’t been that bad of a joke, Draco thought, rolling his eyes. Contrary to the beliefs of many, Draco  _ had _ a functioning sense of humor.

Draco shook his head again but Harry still looked distressed. In a moment of pure lack of thought, Draco blurted, “Buy dinner tonight and we’ll call it even.” The invitation hung in the air for half a moment, too late to be taken back, and Harry nodded with a grin. 

“Brilliant! How’s takeout?” he asked, eyeing him guardedly though hope shone through.

“Sounds good,” Draco said, handing him the packaged potion. “I have firewhiskey upstairs,” he said, pointing to the stairs leading to his flat. To his relief, Harry smiled once more. It simply wasn’t fair that someone be allowed to look that attractive and not even know it. It only added to his beauty. “Fucking Hufflepuff,” Draco muttered to himself, out of earshot from Harry as he led him up to his flat. Godric, he had gone soft. 

…

Harry was walking around his flat cautiously, almost childlike as he curiously looked around, peering at picture frames and studying them, as though trying to decipher the story behind each of them. One photo featuring Draco on a long beach stretching out behind him taken when he and his family had gone to Italy, Harry held for a longer time, seemingly confused as he studied the picture. 

He leaned on the side board, back arched seductively as he trailed his fingertips lightly along the frame, tracing around the image as his teeth worried his lower lip. God the man was doing practically  _ nothing  _ and Draco still wanted to shag the living daylights out of him. He needed to get a fucking grip. 

“What is it?” he asked cautiously when Harry still didn’t drop the picture. It was beginning to unnerve him. 

“Is this you?” Harry asked, surprising him. 

“Yes Potter, are you blind and daft now?” Draco asked and instantly regretted the words. He was caught up in this ridiculous, unreciprocated attraction to Harry fucking Potter, savior of the wizarding world, and he had to push away in the only way he knew how. He opened his mouth to take back the words but Harry beat him to it. 

“Sorry, you just look so different,” he said, glancing to the photo and back to Draco again. Draco still was confused, though he didn’t say as much, but luckily Harry answered before he had to. “You look… happy.”

The words caught Draco off guard, a warm rush of heat flooding to his stomach as his heart beat faster. It was ridiculous that a few words could disarm him so. “Sorry. Thank you… Harry,” he replied, and Harry’s quiet smile washed away what remained of Draco’s harsh words. 

Finally, Harry replaced the photo and continued his exploration of Draco’s small flat, and when he reached the door of his bedroom, twisting the knob as he asked, “Is this your room?” Draco grabbed the knob over Harry’s hand, pulling the door back closed. 

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first, Potter,” Draco murmured next to Harry’s ear as the Gryffindor gasped softly and Draco chuckled. It was fun to unnerve the man when all Harry had to do was look at him. 

…

An hour later, they were halfway into the bottle of firewhiskey, surrounded by empty Chinese boxes and chopsticks. The conversation had been surprisingly light, made easier by the fuzziness induced by the alcohol.

Harry was a couple glasses ahead of Draco, clearly much closer to drunk as Draco neared being tipsy. He was surprisingly at ease, comfortable in the other’s presence. 

“So… Harry,” Draco began, giving a half smirk as Harry looked at him expectantly, a smile playing at the corners of full lips. Lips that begged attention. “When are you going to pop the question to the she-wea-- um, Ginny Weasley?” Draco asked, hastily correcting himself though he instantly regretted the question as Harry’s smile fell immediately. 

Harry cleared his throat, looking down at his near empty glass as he answered. “We, um, we broke up,” he said, still not looking at Draco. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry… I didn’t know… you don’t have to talk about…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t used to seeing the solemn, defeated side of him.

“It’s alright, it was my fault it ended,” Harry began and Draco searched the green depths. The female Weasley had to have been an idiot if she let him go. “The fact that I’m bent was sort of a deal breaker,” Harry said, striving for humor though his voice was still dark. 

Draco was certain he would never pick his jaw up off of the floor. Suddenly he sat up, laughing to himself. “The Savior of the wizarding world,” he muttered, “a bloody shirtlifter.” He laughed again shaking his head in disbelief, only able to imagine the Profit headlines. 

Potter’s brows were pulled together, mouth and jaw tensed as he glared at him with a cold look that was all too familiar to Draco. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but dejection hid behind his anger. “Homophobic, Malfoy?” he asked, jaw tight but his eyes betrayed. 

Draco chuckled again but stopped as Potter made to stand. “That would be awfully hypocritical, even for me,” he said, grasping Harry’s wrist so he would not leave. Harry blinked, suspicion clouding his face for a moment but as Draco’ kept his expression open, the Gryffindor’s transformed into relief.

The look of relief that had flashed across Harry’s face was replaced by one of humor, traces of a grin beginning to etch themselves onto his lips. 

“I would never have thought,” Harry said, laughing to himself. “Always knew you were a bit of a ponce, though,” he said, laughing again when Draco jabbed him in the ribs. “Okay, okay not a bit,” he said, and Draco hmphed in agreement. “...an entire fucking ponce.” 

Draco rolled his eyes but laughed along with him, suddenly glancing down to where he was still grasping Harry’s wrist. Potter’s eyes followed his gaze and suddenly the touch seemed to  _ burn _ , the flesh too hot for him to hold on to. He released it quickly, flushing darkly no doubt and gave an apologetic smile, draining the remainder of his glass. 

Harry followed suit, raising his glass in with a quiet “cheers”, and Draco knew that the Gryffindor was very quickly nearing the point of “drunk”.

Harry swung his legs up on the sofa, resting his sock-clad feet on Draco’s lap and the Slytherin placed a comfortable hand on his crossed ankles. His heart beat quicker at the action that demonstrated how at ease Harry felt with him, and Draco reminded himself that it was a one time deal. In the morning, the alcohol would wear off and Harry would perhaps go and find another Weasley, a male this time. 

Hot jealousy pooled in his jealousy and he forced it down, gently rubbing circles on Harry’s ankles as they sat in silence for a minute longer. 

“Pass the bottle,” Harry said, raising his empty glass. Draco picked the bottle up, reaching it out for Harry before snatching it away as Harry reached for it, laughing mischievously. Harry glared with a smile on his face and tried to swipe it away, removing his feet from Draco’s lap as he sat up, but his reflexes and aim were off, thanks to the alcohol, and somehow Draco ended up partially on his back, trying in vain to keep the bottle away from Harry who was almost lying on top of him. 

Both were shaking from laughter and Draco was startled by how close their faces were. Harry’s hot breath mingled with his own, washing over his face. It smelled of firewhiskey and underneath of something distinctly  _ Harry _ . It was addicting.

Again startled by a sudden wave of emotion as Harry’s hooded eyes gazed at his own, he gently pressed up on Harry’s chest, forcing him to sit up once more before he handed him the bottle. 

“Prat,” Harry muttered almost fondly, refilling his glass and placing the bottle on the floor next to him. He leaned slightly on Draco, the position so casual but trusting, and again Draco felt completely disarmed by Harry Potter. Harry looked back at Draco, seeming to inspect him much in the way he had examined the photo. “You should smile more,” he said suddenly, alcohol clearly doing most of the talking at this point. “It suits you,” he whispered, reaching up with his free hand to ghost his fingers over Draco’s lips. 

Draco shuddered at the feeling, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Thank you,” he returned, murmuring quietly against Harry’s fingertips. Harry dropped his hand and leaned in, eyes hooded as he slowly closed the distance between their faces. Draco was so tempted to close his eyes and pull him closer, melding their mouths until they were one, but the nagging voice reminded him that this was only temporary,  _ had _ to be temporary, and that Harry was drunk out of his mind. 

He held up his hand, brushing Harry’s cheek as he backed away slightly.

“Harry,” he whispered and the green eyes slowly opened, struggling to focus on Draco. “Harry, you’re drunk. I should take you home.” 

Harry giggled, a sound that should  _ not _ have been as adorable as it was. “Can’t apparate now,” he said, leaning against Draco as his lips moved against the Slytherin’s neck, sending a shock through his body. 

“Where do you live? We can floo,” he said, trying not to think about the lips just barely brushing against his sensitive flesh. 

“I don’t remember where I live,” Harry said tiredly, leaning more and more heavily on Draco by the minute. Draco sighed, defeated. He would have to stay the night. He rose quickly, trying to gently pull Harry to his feet. 

“Can you walk?” Draco asked, resigned. Harry’s only response was to giggle again. Harry tried to climb to his feet but fell back on the couch, legs unsupportive. “Come on,” Draco said, gently lifting Harry up and carrying him bridal style into his bedroom. 

Harry laughed adorably again, his lips seeming to be attached to Draco’s neck. “I’ve bought you dinner now,” he said laughing and Draco rolled his eyes fondly. What a Gryffindor idiot. 

As gently as he could manage, he placed Harry on the bed, pulling back the comforter. Draco slowly undid his jeans, trying hard not to think about what he was doing he pulled them down, Harry lifting his hips obediently. The Gryffindor struggled to a sitting position and began to try to remove his shirt, clumsy hands unable to by himself, and Draco sighed, taking off the shirt and placing it on a chair with the trousers. 

As Harry laid back down, he seemed to fall asleep as his breaths became even once more, head lulling to the side slightly causing his glasses to lay crooked on his face. 

Gently, Draco removed them, placing them on the table next to the bed, admiring how open and unguarded the sleeping face looked without the protection of glasses. Draco couldn’t resist brushing the soft, wild locks out of Harry’s face before he turned to leave. 

As he began to walk away, a grasp on his wrist made him stop, open green eyes looking up at him. “Stay.” 

It was only a single word, but it was far too powerful for Draco to resist. The command combined with the pleading expression in Harry’s exposed eyes rendered Draco completely defenseless. He contemplated for a moment, wondering if he could resist kissing the other man again in such proximity, but Harry must have seen the doubt in his eyes because the grip on his wrist tightened.

“Please.” The word was whispered this time, his eyes closing slowly though he seemed to fight to keep them open. Without further deliberation, Draco changed into pajama bottoms, needing to have some sort of barrier between the two. 

He crawled carefully into bed, careful not to disturb Harry in case he had already fallen asleep, but as soon as he pulled the covers over himself, Harry hesitantly slid across the bed.

“It’s cold,” he explained and hesitantly wrapped himself around Draco’s torso, laying his head on his chest. Draco faltered a moment but sleep and alcohol were weighing too heavily on him for he gently wrapped his arms around the other man, holding him to his chest. 

A warmth Draco had never felt before seemed to spread through him, and it wasn’t merely body heat he knew. As Harry’s breaths became deep and even once more, Draco tangled a hand through his thick yet soft hair, gently fingering the locks until he too fell asleep.

…

Draco awoke warmer than he could remember feeling. His heart thudded hard in his chest when he looked down to see Harry still lying on him, and he almost feared it would awaken him. 

He wanted to stay there forever but there was only so long one could fight bodily functions and so he gently disentangled himself from Harry’s embrace, running his fingers through the soft locks for possibly the last time ever, a thought that made his stomach clench. 

When he was finished, he washed his face, examining his wild hair and debated running a comb through it. 

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he decided that a sobering potion was duly necessary for himself and no doubt Harry as well, and walked into the kitchen to summon one. As soon as he downed the liquid, his stomach growled loudly. After placing another sobering potion next to the bed where Harry slept, resisting the urge to crawl back in with him, Draco closed the door softly behind him. 

Pulling out a couple pans, Draco began to make breakfast. Perhaps he could convince the other to stay with the promise of food. 

Godric, Draco was fucked. 

He was still naked from the waist up as that was how he prefered to sleep when he heard someone sit at one of the bar stools. 

“‘Morning, Harry,” he said, continuing to turn the bacon, stomach in his throat as he awaited Harry’s move. This morning was going to go one of two ways, one being Harry leaving as an enemy once again, never to speak to Draco again, and the other… Draco didn’t dare to hope. 

He turned to look at the Gryffindor when he made no response and Harry gave him a half smile, worry lurking in the green depths. He still wore nothing but a pair of boxers and Draco had to tear his gaze away from wandering that delectable body. 

He looked so incredibly tempting with his hair disheveled in that ‘just fucked’ sort of way and his eyes still entirely exposed without the protection of his glasses. 

“You alright?” Draco asked hesitantly, turning away from the breakfast to gaze at Harry. 

Harry nodded, flashing a half smile though trepidation seemed to lurk through, and Draco wondered what could make the nearly fearless Gryffindor so silent. Draco followed the Gryffindor’s eyes as they trailed down his half-naked body, feeling almost too exposed as a flush bloomed in his own cheeks. 

As the green eyes settled on Draco’s abdomen, the expression Draco couldn’t place transformed into one of guilt. 

“What--” Draco began but cut himself off when he realized that Harry had not been looking at his bare flesh but rather the faint silver scars that had lined his chest and stomach since sixth year. Scars he had nearly forgotten about. 

Harry took a step forward and lifted a hand as though he intended to  _ touch  _ the markings lining his chest and Draco took in a sharp breath in trepidation… but almost excitement. 

Realizing his own actions, the hand dropped and Harry’s gaze returned to meet Draco’s, and the Slytherin felt his cheeks heat once again. 

“I’m sorry…” Harry began but trailed off, and Draco knew it was because of the thousand apologies that laid between them. Draco shook his head, stopping whatever words were sure to follow. He didn’t deserve Potter’s guilt, nor did he want it.

“Don’t be,” Draco said, half of a smirk forming on his face. “We all have scars, remember?” he reminded him teasingly, brushing a lock out of Harry’s eyes as he felt the slightly raised skin on his forehead that held the famous lightning scar. 

Draco’s hand dropped almost as quickly as it had moved. Harry gave a small, comforting smile but his eyes seemed to search Draco’s as though they his something that the Gryffindor needed to find. Some secret that even Draco knew nothing about. 

“Sorry if this sounds… bad, but did we…  _ do _ anything last night?” Harry asked, his cheeks darkening. Draco decided he rather like that color on him. 

“No, no, nothing happened,” Draco answered quickly. Too quickly. He needed to repair the damage. “I mean we were both drunk, and I promise I was going to sleep on the couch,” Draco rambled before promptly shutting his mouth. He was digging himself into a hole. 

To his surprise, Harry laughed, some of the tension eased.  _ He was worried he slept with me _ , Draco thought bitterly before biting on his tongue and turning back to the unfinished breakfast, flipping the eggs once more. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry make his way into the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter next to Draco. God, that man was so seductive without even trying.

“Do you… remember anything from last night?” Draco asked, wondering if the ‘almost kiss’ as he had dubbed it in his mind had been entirely alcohol induced. He was glad to have something to keep his hands busy, not knowing if he could form proper sentences if he looked at the man that seemed to scream sex. 

Against his will, his eyes flitted to the Gryffindor while he waited for a response and was happy to see that the flush had returned, making his tan cheeks darken. 

“I remember… some things,” Harry said, eyes flickering to Draco’s lips for only half a second, but Draco knew that he remembered. Harry’s tongue poked out slightly, wetting his lips, an activity Draco sorely wanted to take over. “But I don’t know how accurate they are,” Harry added, eyes still flickering to Draco’s mouth. 

Draco bit his lip for a second, contemplating what to say and green eyes darkened at the action, pupils dilating. Draco’s heart sped in his chest and he was almost certain Harry would be able to hear it. 

“What kinds of things?” Draco asked breathily, unable to form a longer string of words. He knew he was procrastinating but, for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t the Gryffindor here, he bloody well was not going to make the first move. 

Harry’s didn’t answer, however, not verbally at least. Instead he closed the gap between them entirely, hesitantly placing his hands on Draco’s neck, eyes watching, as if waiting for Draco to say no. When he didn’t, Harry inhaled shakily and then his lips were pressed to Draco’s, so softly and hesitantly that the pressure almost seemed like it wasn’t there. 

If not for the electricity pulsing through Draco’s veins he might not have believed it. But the touch was there, the soft feeling of Harry’s lips against his own, more gentle than he had imagined possible, yet firm. Harry’s hands stayed at Draco’s neck, seemingly not wanting to stray as he awaited Draco’s reaction, gently fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Realizing, he still hadn’t moved, lips frozen and arms at his sides as Potter’s kiss shocked him thoroughly, Draco snapped out of his daze, bringing his arms up to touch Harry too, hands beginning at his shoulders before straying to his bare chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his fingers. 

His lips moved fervently, pressing desperately against Harry’s own as he sought to express his feelings without words, to show him that he was not going to push away. Harry moaned at his intensity, and Draco felt a soft tongue swiping across his closed lips, seeking entrance. Entrance that Draco gave automatically and without thought, allowing Harry’s to explore every nerve within his mouth as he in turn searched Harry’s, appreciating the soft moans of approval when he found a sensitive area. 

As soon as Draco had demonstrated his approval, Harry had taken over, pressing him firmly against the countertop behind him as the Gryffindor’s hips pressed against his own, a grinding friction causing blood to surge southward. 

As Potter abused his lips, nipping and sucking and letting Draco know that for now, he was his, Draco was unable to form and intelligible thought, finding that he didn’t really mind feeling as though he belonged to Harry, even if it was just once. 

He made a low groan in approval as Harry explored lower, trailing his lips from Draco’s and tasting all of Draco’s available skin with both lips and tongue. He made his way down Draco’s jaw, pressing soft kisses there before continuing to explore his neck, sucking harshly at a spot just below his ear in a way that was sure to leave a bruise. But Draco did not care about that or anything but the incredible sensation of Harry tasting him, making noises and soft moans that made Draco’s pants tighten considerably, as though Draco was the best thing he had ever tasted. 

Potter trailed his tongue lower to the spot where Draco’s neck met his shoulder, biting softly there and Draco let out a strangled cry, causing the Gryffindor to increase his pressure slightly. 

“Fuck,  _ Harry _ ,” he gasped out, momentarily enjoying the taste of the other’s first name on his lips before Potter brought him back to the present with another suck, just below his first bite. 

Harry’s hands could not seem to remain in one place for more than a second, needing of feel every part of Draco’s bare skin, running up and down his back and neck before feeling his chest and back again. 

His lips continued to search Draco’s skin, moving to his chest now as Draco’s hands gripped at Harry’s muscular back. That wondrous tongue was trailing from his shoulder to his chest, circling a nipple gently before Harry ran his tongue firmly over it. 

“Oh,” Draco gasped at the new feeling, the shock sending pleasure straight to his overly confined cock as he thrusted his hips forward into Harry’s mirrored erection. It was now Potter’s turn to moan, a soft cry as he nipped sharply at his nipple. 

Harry trailed his lips down further still, tasting Draco’s abdomen as he trailed each and every one of Draco’s scars with his mouth, as though each kiss would seal another wound from the past. And perhaps it did. 

Draco struggled to keep his gaze on Harry and all that he was doing as the sinful mouth drew closer and closer to his waiting cock, but the sight was almost  _ too _ erotic, Draco feared this would end before it even started. 

Green eyes unobstructed by glasses looked up at his with a teasing glint within them as Harry mouthed Draco’s still clothed cock through his pants. Draco let out another choked moan as a hand reached down to wrap in Harry’s hair, pleading for him to stop teasing. 

_ “Please,”  _ Draco ground out as Harry just barely wrapped his lips around Draco’s throbbing erection and the eyes were back on his, teasing now replaced by something far more powerful. 

Harry trailed a finger gently down the center of Draco’s abs, placing a kiss just below his navel and the Slytherin was once again touched by the tender gesture, a reminder that this could be more, but he was quickly distracted as Harry’s hand stopped at the band of his pants, toying with it as he paused. He looked up at Draco for permission, an almost shyness emerging from the confidence that had occupied the Gryffindor a moment before. 

Draco tugged gently at the thick locks, begging him to continue and Harry’s smirk returned as he pulled Draco’s pajamas and pants all down in one stroke, gazing at his cock for the first time unobscured. He looked at it with a sort of curiosity, an almost reverence as he took in its length, wrapping a hand cautiously around the base as Draco fought off an impending climax.

As Draco moaned low in his throat, Harry glanced up once more, lust replacing all else that had occupied his expression as he turned back to Draco’s leaking member. Eyes now on his task, Harry experimentally licked a slow line from the base of his shaft back to the wet tip, gently laving at the sensitive area before pulling it into his mouth and sucking. 

A choking noise escaped Draco’s throat and he cut it off by biting down on his lip hard. He had gotten sucked off a couple times before, all quickly and harshly in order to get the job done as efficiently as possible. Harry was just the opposite, as if  _ he _ were the one that got the true pleasure out of this and Draco was the one doing  _ him _ the favor. 

Harry took his time, as though he wanted to experience every crucial second, as though this was his last time. Which, to be fair, it most likely was. But thoughts such as these could not survive in Draco’s head as sensations pooled low in his belly, threatening to overtake him as Harry continued to take his cock in as deep as he could go, the wet cavern of his mouth so enticing Draco would not last much longer. And he still wanted to return the favor. 

Draco gently tugged on soft locks again, carefully dragging Harry away from his throbbing cock. Harry did not seem quite ready to part as he continued to suck harshly to the point that Draco was afraid he would spill all too soon. 

“Harry,” he cried out warningly and thankfully, Harry pulled away with a  _ pop _ , panting and flushed. Fuck he was gorgeous this way, cheeks pink, lips swollen and kissable…

Draco pulled Harry up and tenderly kissed the reddened lips, pouring his lust and all the feelings he couldn’t put into words into the kiss as his tongue twined with Harry’s. He toyed with the waistband of the Gryffindor’s pants before pushing them to the floor with Draco’s own clothing.

Not breaking the kiss, he pulled Harry into the bedroom, allowing Harry to take the lead and push Draco on the bed. Harry quickly climbed on top of him, parting Draco’s legs before settling between them as he continued a deep kiss. 

Harry’s tongue searched Draco’s mouth, moaning into it as Draco sucked fervently before nipping lightly at Harry’s lower lip. He could taste himself in Harry’s mouth, a reminder of the searing pleasure of moments before, but underneath there was something distinctly  _ Harry  _ that he couldn’t get enough of.

Harry trailed his lips to Draco’s neck once more, sucking a spot just below his jaw and Draco writhed on the sheets, gripping them as a whine emerged from his throat. 

“Harry,” he murmured and the lips separated from his neck, green eyes staring down at him, so open and unobscured. It was a frightening amount of connection, so open and so terrifying but Draco found himself unable to look away. The eyes fixed on his own for several long seconds, each seeming trapped in the other’s gaze before Draco broke the silence. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered, watching the words cloud Harry’s eyes with heat and the lips were back on his own, pressing fiercely with a pent up desire. Draco held nothing back, tangling his fingers in Potter’s hair as his tongue savagely danced with the other’s. 

Harry still made no move to progress the situation, and Draco was growing impatient, nearly coming apart at the seams if Harry continued his relentless teasing. 

“Harry,” Draco repeated and circled Potter’s hips with his legs, hoping he would finally get the message. Wandlessly, Harry, conjured a small phial of lube and Draco’s stomach clenched with heat at the raw, nonchalant display of power. 

Harry was about to pour some in his hands when Draco took it away. “Let me,” he said, spilling some into his palm before stroking Harry’s throbbing cock. 

It truly was magnificent, long and not too thick, although anything other than sheer perfection on the Savior was not to be believed. He coated it slowly, gripping it firmly as he tugged upwards and Harry’s hips thrusted into his hand of their own volition. 

Harry spread Draco’s legs, shifting back slightly to obtain a better angle before he took the lube, coating a finger and pressing it gently into Draco’s entrance. Draco released a breath he had not realized he had been holding and hummed almost in relief.

The finger slid in easily into the slick passage, but it was already a tight fit as Draco fluttered and clenched around the finger. It had been a long time. Harry eased the tension by returning his lips briefly to Draco’s, reassuring him that it was all alright. 

“Okay?” Harry asked as his finger stilled fully inside him. Draco didn’t trust himself to form words but managed a breathless nod, moaning as the finger slowly pulled out before pushing into him again. As Draco adjusted, another slick finger was added, stretching him slowly. 

The fingers continued the slow pace until Draco wanted,  _ needed _ , more. Draco whimpered as the fingers retreated, soothed shortly after by a searing kiss before the fingers were replaced by something much larger. 

Harry pushed into him slowly, too slowly, as though he was worried Draco would break or disappear at any harsh movement. There was a slight burn as Draco accommodated the larger size but being filled by Harry was reward for any pain, especially one so insignificant.

Harry’s head rested beside Draco’s and he stilled as soon as he was fully seated within him, allowing Draco to fully appreciate what it was to be completely and entirely at the mercy of Harry Potter. They laid there, still for a moment, each already breathing heavily with the powerful sensation, and Draco experimentally clenched around Harry, moving his hips in the hopes that the Gryffindor would catch on.

Harry choked on a sob as Draco clenched around him again and the Slytherin smiled in the knowledge that he wasn’t completely at the other’s mercy. It appeared that each were equally powerless in this. 

“Draco,” Harry murmured as the blonde wrapped his legs around Potter, drawing him in further still, and finally, mercifully, Harry began to move, carefully pulling out before pushing his entire length quickly in. 

Draco took in a quick breath in pleasure and pressed a firm kiss to Harry’s shoulder before Potter could foolishly ask if he had hurt him. 

Harry kept a steady pace, relentlessly thrusting into Draco with the desperate intensity that the Gryffindor met all tasks with, head on and without thought. Each was nothing but sensation, broken moans and cries of the other’s names until Harry hit a spot Draco hadn’t known existed until that moment. It was as though the entire world had suddenly halted and focused to a pin point until there was nothing but Harry inside of Draco, making stars flash before his eyes as he filled him over and over again. 

“Fuck, Draco… I’m so close,”  Harry moaned into his ear, a hand fisting around Draco’s cock and pumping as Harry hit that spot over and over again, and then Draco was coming, spilling into Harry’s hand as he cried out his name, vaguely aware that he could feel Harry flooding within him, whimpering something that vaguely sounded like  _ Draco  _ into his ear. 

Eventually, Harry stilled, collapsing on top of Draco for half a moment before carefully pulling out and resting beside him. Draco would have been content to fall asleep then and there and never wake up but Harry seemed to have other ideas. 

He summoned his wand to his hand, and this time Draco allowed himself to marvel at the casual way Harry was able to do such powerful magic. Quietly casting a cleaning spell on them both, Harry set his wand on the table beside the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked concerned, tentatively stroking Draco’s stomach. The way he had been so tender during and after sex had surprised Draco, nearly as much as how pleasurable it had been. It made Draco unwillingly hope this was not a one time deal as he had previously assumed. 

“Better than okay,” Draco said quietly, giving a small smile though his thoughts had drifted southward. 

“What’s wrong,” Harry asked, shifting so he was sitting up, a hand cradling Draco’s face as the green eyes implored his own to look at him. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Draco said quickly and cursed that the words seemed hollow even to himself. It seemed that mind blowing sex with Harry eradicated his Slytherin ability to lie on the spot. “Sorry, just thinking,” he added, hoping to cover the obvious falsehood. 

Harry sat up fully, eyes guarded. “Do you want me to go?” he asked hesitantly, obviously cautious. 

“No,” Draco corrected quickly, too quickly for his own taste but that was beside the point.  _ Best to not look too desperate _ , he reminded himself. “I just… what happens now?” he asked, his voice betraying the weakness Draco fought to hide. 

“Well…” Harry said, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Is that all you wanted?” Harry asked, eyes searching Draco’s for an answer he didn’t know if he wanted to give. He didn’t want to say no and that he wanted to do this everyday until the day he died if it was simply a one off for Harry. Potter must have caught his nervous expression for he soon added, “...it’s not for me, at least. Not all I want, I mean,” Harry said nervously, and Draco was struck speechless for a moment from the sheer adorableness of the man before him. 

And Harry was still looking at him with large, puppy eyes and a hopeful expression that made Draco’s heart quicken in his chest and his face flame and all sorts of other things that  _ Malfoys _ shouldn’t have felt. But he did and it was all because of Potter. 

“Me neither,” Draco finally replied quietly, dropping Harry’s gaze. He knew even during the act that it was not strictly carnal, not with the soothing touches and the reverent way he had said Draco’s name when he came…

Draco was surprised when lips met his, softly and slowly melding with his own in a way so languid in comparison to those in the heat of passion. 

“Good,” Harry said when they pulled apart before placing another chaste kiss on Draco’s lips before lying back down and snuggling into his side. A few minutes later, they were both asleep. 

_ Fin _  
  



End file.
